


Canary Song Yellow

by garrideb



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e05 Cypher, Gen, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrideb/pseuds/garrideb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A <i>Cypher</i> follow-up. Jim finds a reminder of Lash where he least expects it.  Written: 5/2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canary Song Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to the Sentinel Angst List.

A bell above the door rang as Jim entered the boutique, causing the woman behind the counter to look up from the fashion magazine she was reading. Jim smiled at her and she smiled back, looking genuinely pleased to have a customer.

The store was small, so it took only a glance for Jim to confirm that he was the only customer. And judging by the enthusiasm with which the clerk put down her magazine and strode towards Jim, he was the first customer in a while.

"Good morning! Is there anything I can help you find?" The clerk asked. The name tag on her shirt read 'June'. She was middle aged with graying blond hair and laughter lines faintly visible around her eyes. She also was a big fan of perfume, Jim discovered when he inhaled. It wasn't a bad scent - spicy with a strong undercurrent of vanilla, vaguely familiar - and he might have liked it if it wasn't so strong. He quickly dialed down his sense of smell before he sneezed.

Jim dug around in his coat pockets until he found the list he had brought. "Actually, yes. I'm looking for a birthday gift for a friend. Do you carry these?"

Carolyn's birthday was less than a week away. Jim could still remember the first time they celebrated her birthday together - before their marriage and long before their divorce. He'd never been very good at shopping for gifts, especially for women. Add to that the pressure of a new relationship - one that was more serious than any of his previous ones - and Jim had been scrambling for the perfect present. He had finally broken down and asked for a hint about what she wanted. Ever since, it had been a tradition for her to drop unsubtle hints in the days leading up to her birthday. Now, even after their marriage ended, they played this game.

And yesterday Jim had found an evidence bag containing the clasp of an earring and the name of a popular local jewelry brand written on the label. If Jim's sources were correct - and he was sure they were, because Rhonda knew these things - this boutique carried that brand.

"Sure we do! Hmm, let's see... oh, here we go. They're right over here..." June turned and headed towards the back wall. Just as Jim started to follow her, something caught his eye. It was hanging on a rack next to some hats and purses, and he stepped towards them instead of the clerk.

Yellow. A yellow scarf. It was the particular shade of yellow that had grabbed Jim's attention. It was the color of sunflower petals, or ripe pineapple.

He reached out and touched it, his sensitive fingers ghosting over the fabric. It was silky and cool to the touch. It was the exact shade of yellow, and the exact material. Jim clasped a corner of the fabric and lifted the scarf off the rack.

It was exactly the same as the ones Lash had used on his victims.

* * *

 _Jim made an appointment with the department psychologist for me. I told him I didn't need it, but he said it was protocol. Never mind that I don't officially work for the department. Never mind that he'd never go if our roles were reversed. I didn't feel like fighting, so I went._

 _Maybe in a way it was all right. Dr. Burns was nice, very laid back. We chatted for a while about police mentalities, about different ways these men and women deal with the stress of law enforcement. She really knew what she was talking about. I almost asked her to guest speak for one of my classes, but she managed to shift our conversation to Lash and my ordeal before I could._

 _There weren't any surprises on that front. I told her that I was having a tough time forgetting Susan Fraiser. Her vacant eyes still bother me, more than Lash's eyes ever did. Dr. Burns said that there was nothing unusual about that. She said that it would take time to put Susan behind me._

 _I think maybe Jim listened in to our session. I don't want to ask in case I'm wrong, but I wish I knew for sure. Jim needs to know that I'm okay, that this isn't going to hold me back. I survived Lash, didn't I?_

 _I'll do whatever it takes to show Jim I can handle this._

* * *

The clerk's voice broke through the zone of his discovery. He tore his eyes away from the scarf to see June standing next to him. "That's a good choice," she told him, nodding at the item in his hands. "Yellow is really making a comeback this spring. Those scarves have been popular."

"Popular?" A profound sense of unease settled in Jim's chest, and he clenched the scarf a little tighter.

"Oh yes. I've had several customers buy them these past few months." She smiled up at him, unaware of how disturbing her words were to Jim.

The cop took a breath. He had a question on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. He was certain he knew the answer. After a moment he gave in to his morbid curiosity and asked, "A man in a wheelchair? With dark hair?"

June looked surprised but smiled. "Yes. Do you know him?"

Jim closed his eyes. "What about a younger man wearing punk rock clothes? A tall woman with dark hair?"

"Yes, I remember them. I have a good memory for customers, sir. But how do you know..."

"Was there anyone else?"

The question came out a little harsher than Jim intended, but the clerk took it in stride. "Yes."

Jim slipped his hand into his jeans pocket, ready to pull out his badge if needed. But June didn't seem to mind the questions, so he kept his questions unofficial for now. "Who?"

June's forehead wrinkled as she thought back. "Um, there was a man with long blond hair and glasses."

Dr. Bates, of course. So Lash had bought the scarves while in his assumed identities. Feeling sick, Jim wondered if the serial killer bought the scarves after he'd chosen his next victim, or if he bought them long in advance. He could find out, he supposed, if the store kept precise records. They knew that Billy Bright had been in contact with Lash several hours before Lash kidnapped him - was it possible that Lash had been in this very shop between those two times? But it was just as likely that Lash had chosen Bright long before he had sold him weed...

Lash was dead. It didn't matter. Jim had put five bullets in that man's chest, ending that nightmare.

Jim unclenched his fist and turned the scarf over. On the tag under the brand name was the name of the color - Canary Song Yellow. Jim put the scarf back.

"There was one other customer. I think he was the last person to purchase one. He had long curly hair-"

Jim froze.

"- and he said his name was Blair."

The nausea came back full force as Jim imagined Lash wearing that ridiculous wig, talking to this very woman, planning out Blair's death as he bought a plain yellow scarf. His signature. The one part of himself that he left his 'friends' while he stole everything else from them.

He didn't even need to imagine Blair with the scarf around his neck, because Jim had seen it with his own eyes.

Jim turned and quickly left the boutique. He wasn't in the mood for anymore shopping.

* * *

 _It's been about a month and I don't feel nervous alone in the loft anymore. I've stopped looking over my shoulder when I'm out at night. I can honestly say that the terror of Lash has faded._

 _But I was never doubtful that it would._

 _I still think about Susan, though. Sometimes I dream that we're at Club Doom together, sitting at a table drinking beer and watching everyone dance. Sometimes the band playing has a long-haired drummer. Sometimes a man in a wheelchair passes us by, smelling strongly of marijuana._

 _But the music is always the same, a pounding beat that pulses through your whole body. And the lights always flash like lightning._

 _And then, always, David stops at our table and asks Susan to dance._

 _They aren't nightmares, exactly. I don't wake up afraid. I'm just not entirely sure what they are._

* * *

Blair wasn't home when Jim arrived, which was fine. He didn't want to deal with Sandburg's curiosity. He certainly didn't want to explain his suddenly foul mood. The last thing the kid needed was to hear about Lash's calling-cards hanging in a downtown boutique.

He tossed his keys onto the table by the door and shrugged out of his coat. What he did want was a beer and an hour or two of doing nothing. Luckily, the fridge was well stocked. Jim grabbed a cold beer and glanced over at the couch. It looked like a good place to do nothing for a while.

As he passed through the loft, however, something made him stop. Something was tugging at his memory, something triggered by standing in his home. Whatever he was sensing, it was so minute that Jim wasn't even sure how he was sensing it.

Perplexed, he dialed up all of his senses. He increased them gradually, careful not to push them too far. Then he slowly turned in a circle, taking in everything he could from his loft.

It finally came to him when he closed his eyes, putting a little more emphasis on his ears and nose. It was a scent that was bothering him. It was so faint he had to push his sense of smell almost to the max and then filter out the overwhelming odors of everyday life in the loft. When he had filtered out the scents of himself and Blair, and then the scents of the food in their kitchen, the soaps and products in the bathroom, the candles that Blair burned for meditation, the potted plant on their balcony... then Jim found it.

Vanilla and spice.

He would have assumed that he had tracked it in from the store on his clothing, but the smell was coming from Blair's room.

Jim didn't really consider that he was invading his roommate's privacy. He just followed the scent like a bloodhound, not even pausing at Blair's door.

It was stronger by Blair's bed. For a moment Jim stood staring at the bed, as if the source of the smell would suddenly appear on top of the covers. When nothing happened, Jim reached down and pulled back the sheets. Still, there was nothing. He pushed aside the pillow and the scent became much clearer.

The yellow of the scarf was stark against the white of the mattress cover.

* * *

 _I found a scarf in a store today, and I know that it was the same kind Lash used._

 _I should have just left it, but I didn't. I picked one up, paid fifteen bucks for it, and took it home. If Jim finds out he'd freak, I just know it. He'd think it was sick, and maybe he'd be right._

 _The thing is, I didn't feel sick or horrified when I saw the scarves. I felt relieved. I wish I could write this down so it would make sense, but I don't know how to say it right._

 _Susan hasn't been in my dreams for over a week. I know I never knew her when she was alive, but I still feel close to her. I don't want to forget her._

 _Me, Susan, Billy, Adam... we had nothing in common, except for something Lash saw in us. Some spark of life that he wanted to have. A spark that he took, too, from all of them except for me._

 _No one should ever forget that we were Lash's friends. Most importantly, I should never forget, because if I do I'll be forgetting some essential part of me - the part I fought so hard to keep away from Lash._


End file.
